[A/N]And here we are again. I hope the festive season is treating you all well and we're all having some fun. Wow, I'm doing these notes so often now they're practically becoming my blog… So to prevent myself telling you what happened whilst Christmas shopping or what kind of sandwich I just ate, I think I'll just dive right in.
Broken Bow: The 12 Years of Christmas
Chapter 7: 2010
December 24th 2010 11:35pm
'Santa' thought he would have been happy with the current situation, he should be happy.
It looked like there would be no trouble this year, no commotion…
He stood in the dark silence of the condo's living room; the only light was a dim red glow from the dying coals in the fireplace. He was standing almost sentinel, observing the demigod laying on the couch; his breath nothing more than wheezing gasps, a cold sweat still clinging to his forehead.
He had suffered an attack again, a particularly nasty one at that. Things had been getting progressively worse over the past few years; there were times when the imperfection in him wouldn't have any effect for weeks, but over the past year the gaps had been closing. If he was lucky he would get a weeks respite before succumbing once more, and for one to have happened on Christmas Eve of all days…
He had rushed through his rounds tonight, not that there was much of a chance of reoccurrence, but he felt it wrong to leave the child alone on this night especially, it was Christmas after all.
No, that wasn't entirely accurate.
It was his last Christmas.
'Santa' could tell; at best the half-blood might make it to his next birthday, but he would be gone by the time the first leaf fell to the ground.
Apollo would be with him as much as possible during the remaining time; it wasn't like he had anyone else. Even Lanaya had left, though this hadn't been of her own choice. In fact she had been so vocal and heartfelt with her objections about leaving the demigod that the god was almost tempted to let her remain, but he couldn't. She was a tree spirit, and he was the son of the goddess of forests, and his life force; his very essence, was decaying at an increasing rate. Originally she could only just feel it, but it was getting to the point where it was having a detrimental effect to her essence and mental wellbeing. For her sake, and for the boy's if he ever found out he was the cause of her pain, she had to leave.
With that in mind, she had reluctantly agreed, and had put on a convincing enough show, slowly building up the tension between her and the god for a couple of weeks before letting it reach breaking point and her vowing not to show her face around Apollo again.
Armani, despite his efforts to hide his emotions, had been particularly upset buy her departure, and had vented during their regular training sessions. His rage during those times had been so intense, Apollo found himself believing the demigod would have dismembered him if he could have. The fact that Lanaya kept in touch and continued to teach him via iris messaging (which was all charged to Apollo of course) did little to abate his depression over the issue and Apollo could tell that the boy had started to blame himself as well as the sun god for driving her away which, whilst technically it was true that it was his condition that forced her to leave, it wasn't really his fault. And so Apollo did the best he could to make the demigod blame him more than he blamed himself. He was, unsurprisingly, very skilled at this.
'Santa' watched the boy a moment longer and decided it was highly unlikely he would stir for the rest of the night.
So this is how it ends, as most things do: not with a bang… but with a sigh. He reached silently down and flicked a bang out of the boy's face, which in turn ended up brushing against the demigod's earlobe.
'Santa' flicked his head back just as the demigod attempted to unconsciously knock out three of his teeth.
He smiled as the boy immediately curled up and went still again.
"Merry Christmas, kid," He mumbled, reaching down to set a gift by the foot of the sofa "you might not get as much use out of this as I'd hoped, but I'm sure you'll make good use of it."
The jolly look melted as he looked sadly down at him, "I'm so sorry…"
And, as he turned away, he let out a warm sigh, the room heating up slightly.
Behind him, a pair of silver eyes shot open.
Armani watched in a daze as the man in red began to walk slowly away.
The demigod was still for a moment in contemplation. He knew inside there was something seriously wrong with him and, despite Apollo's continued reassurances that it was just a 'thing' and not to worry, the half-blood knew, at his core, that his time was running short.
He was walking away, and the boy could barely move. He was walking away, and he knew this would be the last chance he got, and still he was just walking away.
To Armani, the man in red was more than just the god in Santa's guise who came every year to deliver presents and end up rumbling with him, he was a symbol; every year he would try and best him, every year on this night he would put everything he had into trying to win, using every skill and trick he had learned during the year. He was the symbol of how good the demigod had become. And now, on the last night, the last year, when he would get no better, when he was at the peak of all he could ever be, what happened?
Nothing. The man just walks away…
And so, that would be the sum-total of the young boy's life in the end:
Nothing.
No…
The boy ground his teeth in his mouth. Though he didn't particularly like himself and often thought himself of little to no worth, he would not be nothing.
He knew nobody else, had no friends, nobody to remember him except a few nymphs and a sun god. Even if it was just one last vain cry of defiance into the night, the boy would be heard.
His fingertips gripped the sofa as his still shaking muscles refused to respond.
I will not be nothing.
Then there was the voice again, a whisper in the back of his mind, barely discernible, and though it sounded reluctant to even do anything, there was an odd conviction in it, willing him on.
Get up!
He listened to his instinct, overriding his discomfort and pain, he found himself struggling quietly to his feet and, shakily, found his ground just as the man in red's hand touched the doorknob.
'Santa' let out an involuntary yelp as the flaming poker the demigod had thrown slammed into the doorframe an inch above his fingers.
He swung about to find the demigod on his feet. His silver eyes seemed to glisten darkly in the red glow of the fire.
The boy took a shuddering breath, "…going somewhere?"
'Santa' regarded him in silence, an understanding that needed no words passed between them as they locked eyes. He wouldn't question his condition, they would simply continue as they always had, and let the future be just that: the future.
'Santa' smiled in his usual jolly, cocky way. "I am. Do you intend to try and stop me?"
Armani wiped the sweat from his brow, his legs becoming steadier by the second, "I think you should know the answer to that by now."
'Santa' inclined his head, "I suppose I should." He nodded down by the demigod's foot, "I suppose I can make an exception for tonight, so why don't you go ahead and unwrap your gift early."
Armani glanced down by his foot, frowning as his head finished clearing and bent down to pick up what lay there.
It was a sword. It hadn't been wrapped up, all it had was a golden bow tied about the pommel to signify it as a gift.
He picked it up in both hands. It's sheath strap had an interesting design which, as he slit it on, realised it was designed like a belt which, when clipped on and in place, left the sword sideways across his lower back, the pommel in constant reach of his hand every time he moved it back.
He let his hand swing back and, as his palm brushed the pommel, pulled the weapon free in one fluidic move, twirling it once experimentally.
It was perfectly proportioned for him. The weapon was, from pommel to tip, the almost exact same distance as it was from Armani's middle fingertip to elbow. The bronze blade was equally well balanced.
'Santa' observed the boy as he examined the weapon. He had designed it obviously with the child in mind. When it came to melee combat, the boy didn't rely so much on skill as he did instinct, and so any blade wielded by him needed to be less a weapon and more an extension of his own arm; less a blade or knife, and more like a tooth or a claw.
The boy looked at it in silence, and 'Santa' could've sworn the ghost of a smile appeared at the side of his mouth, "Thank you, Santa."
The old man inclined his head, "I'm glad you like it."
Armani's eyes flicked up from the blade to meet 'Santa's'. The old man smirked, "Going to challenge me now?"
Armani inclined his head, "No –well, yes, but first don't you think you should do something about that?"
'Santa' frowned, "About what?"
Armani cocked an eyebrow up, "The doorframes on fire."
'Santa' glanced behind himself and he let out a sharp Greek curse as he looked about himself frantically, eventually going so far as to pat out the flames with his hat.
He let out a relieved sigh, and ducked just as Armani's sword stabbed into the wood above his head.
The old man grabbed his sword from his sack and swung it round. Armani leapt up, bracing his feet on the door above the old man he propelled himself backwards, pulling his blade free and putting some distance from his opponent.
'Santa' smiled, "I suppose I should have known better than to turn my back on you."
Armani inclined his head, "Not the soundest tactical move, no."
Armani's eyes flicked about. In the cramped hallway there wasn't much in the way of manoeuvring space, and he knew the old man had the advantage in probably every area. Which was understandable, contemplated Armani almost grimly, the man was a god after all.
As if reading his thoughts, 'Santa' smirked, "Why don't we take this somewhere a little less cramped?" he asked and, as Armani attacked again and pushed the old man back, the golden barrier that surrounded the building flowed inwards and, as it made contact, there was a bright yellow flash and they found themselves standing outside on the dunes overlooking the ocean, blades still grappling.
'Santa' forced the demigod's blade back and the boy staggered a few steps before righting himself and readying his sword once more.
'Santa' flourished his blade and smiled, mirroring his opponent's stance, "Okay then, boy. Let's see just how good you've become…"
And so they fought, their blades clashed as they danced and duelled the night away. The demigod fought the almost hopeless fight, nicks and cuts building up on both sides, the man's red suit having multiple gold stains and the boy's white shirt blotted with his own blood.
As much as the older man pushed, the demigod kept fighting, like there was a voice in his head pushing him to go just one more round and, just as dawn began to approach, the demigod finally collapsed and passed out from fatigue, his blade falling to the ground beside him. And, if the demigod didn't know better, he could've sworn that, as the darkness closed in around him, he heard a warm voice coming from the one standing over his fallen form.
"Your mother would've been proud…"
Apollo sank down onto the sofa, swigging down a glass of chilled nectar as his wounds healed. That had not gone as easily as he had first assumed, of that he was glad, but now the sun had risen, the boy was asleep and their last duel was done. He let out a lamenting breath. And now he had to wait for that inevitable day to come.
He supposed everything would just go as expected from now on…
December 24th 10:35pm 2011
This was not what Apollo had expected.
He set Maria's present down by the foot of her bed – an enchanted Viola, just like she wanted – and his eyes went, almost with trepidation, to the remaining gift in his sack and then, with a slight chill, to the full moon that hung in the air…
To be continued…
[A/N] And we begin to reach the conclusion of our Christmas tale, would seem this wasn't going to take as many chapters as I had first assumed, though I will probably end up splitting the last part up into more than one chapter. So I'll catch you all again for the next instalment.
See you in chapter 8: 2011 (Part 1)
And a merry Christmas to you all!